Prior To Investigation
by Coordinated-Disaster
Summary: Puckleberry. Puck wants to be with Rachel, but in order to gain her attention, he's going to have to change his entire image. Is he willing to sacrifice all of his popularity and status to try and attract her or will he keep what he already has?
1. Humiliation

Noah Puckerman's Journal Entry December 29th, 2010

* * *

Dead beat asshole. That's me, Noah Puckerman, but honestly this is not what I want to be. I mean, sure, it's nice to have every dude in the school afraid of you and it's cool to get laid whenever you want, but... I don't know. It's like, now that I've dug myself this little niche, nobody would take me serious if I tried to do something else. You know, I'm a poet. I write songs and they are definitely not the types of songs people would expect me to. I'd totally get my ass beat and thrown into the social scene with all those Glee club pussies. Of course, I've always told the football team that the whole Glee thing was for shits and giggles, but it's not. I love singing. When I'm belting out all my jew tunes in front of the other Glee kids, I feel like a star. They clap with the beat, or sing along, and it's like I've got this audience watching me and I'm on top of the god damned world. Nobody can bring me down... well, until I step in the locker room and all the guys are talking about how Glee Club is for fags and drama queens. I laugh along, and talk shit too, but I just want to break those guys out into a song and show them how much fun it is. Whatever, you know, there are social boundaries, and it's useless for me to try and break them, I just wish I could.

Rachel Berry's Journal Entry December 29th, 2010

Dearest Diary,

* * *

I act so passive in regards to the constant barrage of insults and humiliation within the school, but it angers me to my core. People just can't understand that talent is not how far a girl can spread her legs in the backseat of a car, or the size of her breasts. I know I'm a prize in every respect, why can't everyone else see things that way? It's ridiculous. I have a beautiful voice, and I'm so knowledgeable. What is unimpressive about me? Frustrations, frustrations, Diary! Anyway, today was AWFUL Quinn Fabray posted pictures all over the school of me crying after Finn broke up with me. Anyways, as I reflect over my relationship with Finn, I realize I may not have even loved him. I think it may have been a result of my desperation, combined with the fact that he seemed to look at me as a person, not as the obnoxious diva, Rachel Berry. He had a very nice vocal ability, to boot! However, I have come to the conclusion that he is a superficial person, and he's not very smart. These two things, among others, leave several unchecked boxes on my checklist for a perfect companion. It just seems like there are no boys at this school can satisfy my needs, of which there are many.

Chapter One

Mr. Schuester stood before the Glee students with Barbra Streisand's name written on the board. Rachel was bubbling with excitement in her seat, looking prepared to give the club a lecture on how expansive Ms. Streisand's impact on American media was.

"Barbra Streisand was-" Mr. Schuester began, before being cut off by Rachel.

"I already know everything about Barbra Streisand!" She chimed in.

"Of course you do!" Santana snapped.

"Alright, Rachel, if you know SO much about her than I bet you wouldn't mind telling us what her first five albums were?" Will asked, looking irritated at Rachel's never ending attempts to outdo not only all of her fellow "Glee Clubbers", but him as well.

"The Barbra Streisand Album, The Second Barbra Streisand Album..." She paused, "Funny Girl, People, and My Name is Barbra," She glanced around the room to see everyone's impressed faces, and as usual, she saw none, but there was a confident smirk on Noah Puckerman's face.

"You missed The Third Album," He chuckled.

"Oh, yeah, what was it called?" Rachel hissed, appearing offended that anyone should contest her knowledge of the pop culture idol.

"It was called The Third Album," His chuckle had graduated to a laugh, and everyone began laughing along, including Mr. Schuester.

Rachel looked upset, and sunk down into her seat, arms folded she let out a statement attempting to redeem her broken ego, "Oh, yes, how silly of me, how could I have forgotten The Third Album. Personally I think it was one of her best efforts."

"Alright Rachel, we get it, you know Barbra Streisand better than any of us, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you guys about. I wanted to talk to you about showmanship. Barbra was a prime example of not only conveying your message through lyrics but through the emotion in your voice and through stage presence, like hand gesturing or movement."

"I dance. That counts as movement, right?" Brittany inquired.

"That's a great point, Brittany. Dancing is one example of motion, but what we've been doing is really just dancing with your body and moving more with the music than with the lyrics. I'm talking about getting on your knees and crying out on big notes. Holding clenched fists to your heart on more meaningful notes," Mr. Schuester responded.

"But I-" Rachel contested.

"Yes, Rachel, I know you can already do these things! I've just been noticing that it's a bit of an issue for the rest of you guys. So, without further ado, does anyone think they can show the class what I mean?"

The band room was silent and only the persistent hand of Rachel Berry stood erect. Everyone looked around uncomfortably.

"Rachel, I'd like to let someone else try," Will sighed.

Puck put his hand in the air, "I'll give it a shot, Mr .Schue!"

"Alright, great, show us what you've got!" Mr. Schue gave a quiet applause.

"I'll be singing Mrs. Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel," Puck said, before picking up his guitar.

Rachel grew more offended, as she watched Puck perform his song excellently before the group. The girls and boys stood and danced, singing along with the chorus, while she sat defiantly in her chair.

Noah had grabbed the lesson by the horns and he was owning it. Rachel knew that even if she could have given a better performance, she couldn't have ever gotten the class as involved. She had a tremendous capacity for choosing songs of which none of the other kids knew anything about.

When Glee got out, Rachel approached Noah in the hallway.

"Excuse me?" She shouted.

He jerked around, to look at her, before raising a questioning eyebrow, "Yeah?" He asked.

"What exactly was that back there? Was it really so important for you to catch me slipping up that you would go to the lengths of looking up Barbra Streisand's discography, while I on the other hand was recalling each of her albums from memory?"

"I didn't look it up," He smiled.

"Okay, so I'm to believe that I, who is cultured in all sections of the performing arts, theater, music, and musical theater, knows less about MY idol, than a sex driven hoodlum such as yourself?"

"Look, babe, face it, I know my jews."

"Don't you dare call me babe! And I know you! You don't listen to show tunes and you most definitely do not know more than me about them. You're taking me off subject, though! I'd just like to politely request that you stop attempting to embarrass me in front of the entire Glee Club."

"I wasn't trying to embarrass you, I was just trying to bring you back down to Earth. You don't know everything, and the sooner you learn that the better off you'll be. You're going to get torn apart in the real world, acting the way you do." Puck had effectively broken Rachel's defensive wall of false self esteem, "And I swear I didn't look it up! I don't even have my phone on me."

Rachel turned around and stomped off in a fit of frustration. She threw her short arms down straight by her sides, with clenched fists.


	2. Under The Skin

Noah Puckerman's Journal Entry, December 30th 2010

* * *

Damn, if I thought there was one person who would appreciate my knowledge of Barbra Streisand, it would be Rachel Berry. Instead, all she can do is bitch at me for correcting her. All I was trying to do was impress her. I've never told this to anybody, but when I was dating her last year, it was the coolest thing. I was with a girl who had similar interests to me. She's hot, she's smart, and she loves singing, those things all appeal to me. I guess the only reason I never tried to get back with her was because Finn was with her and I thought it best not to fuck up our friendship any worse than I already had. She definitely has something against me now, though. It's a shame that it didn't work out. It probably would have got me into a lot of shit anyway, me being a popular jock, and her being that undefinable bottom level of the social pyramid. I wrote a song today. I'm thinking of showing it to the Glee Club. I wonder if she'll like it.

Rachel Berry's Diary Entry, December 30th 2010

My oh-so beloved diary,

Today was humiliating! Noah Puckerman made me look like an incompetent fool in front of all of the Glee kids. I knew what the album was called, I just forgot it, but he had to make it seem like I didn't even know. Everyone must have thought I was so stupid. And then he goes and takes my in-class solo away from me, like he's the one who lead us to sectionals last year! He doesn't even understand how much singing means to me. Mr. Schue is getting on my nerves with his whole "Make everyone feel equal!" thing. It's just plain wrong, not everyone is equal and nor do they deserve to feel as if they are. Everybody should be aware that I am a far superior performer to anyone else in that club! Everyone is flawed, from Quinn's nasally whine, to Tina's obnoxiously high pitched voice. I am simply perfect vocally and the sooner people realize that, the less they'll be let down when I'm famous and they're all scrubbing caked on food from dishes. It's no use diary!

Your devoted confessor,

* * *

Rachel Berry

Chapter Two

Rachel paced the crowded hallways of William McKinley High School, arms full of books and worried eyes averting the judgmental glances of her peers. She was spooked by the sudden feeling of a hand on her shoulder, preventing her from moving any further. She looked up into the disarming brown eyes of Noah Puckerman.

"Hey, Rachel, I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything. I just kind of wanted you to see that I'm not what you think I am. I'm more than just the asshole who beats up on disabled things. I'm really into music, y'know? Just like you are. And It would be cool if nobody knew about this whole apology thing," He explained, trying to maintain his "bad boy" aesthetic.

"I get it. You can be nice to me, but only if nobody knows about it. You're so sweet Noah!" She retorted, as her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"Look, I would stand up in front of the whole school and tell everyone how cool I think you are, but it would totally ruin me babe!"

"A: I told you once before not to call me babe. B: You wishing you could confess your acceptance of me, while being too afraid to be scoffed at by the public is a contradiction. You may want to work on not doing that."

"Jesus Christ! You're so impossible. I try to give you an honest apology and all you can do is complain about it!" He shouted.

Rachel covered her ears with her fingers and began singing as she walked away from her current rival.

"Fuck!" Noah screamed in the center of the hallway, catching the attention of everyone who had previously been minding their business. "What the fuck are you looking at?" He barked.

That night, at around eleven o' clock, Puckerman climbed into the window of Santana Lopez' bedroom. She was siting on her bed, flicking through the channels on her television.

"Hey cutie," He joked, sitting down next to her.

"Sup babes?" She shined her sparkly teeth at him.

"Bored out of my mind, and missing you," He replied.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and planted his lips on hers. She giggled and rolled him over, climbing on top of him.

Rachel sat in her bedroom, she stared at the ceiling and sighed. She paced back and forth for a while, before sitting down in her chair. She turned on her video camera and put on her karaoke recording of . She tried over and over again to make it as fun and engaging as Noah had, but she just couldn't. She took her work far too seriously to even consider doing a lighthearted cover. After hours of recording, she came to the conclusion that her cover was far better than Puck's, and until the Glee Club matured, she was going to have to put up with their poor taste.

Puck sighed, slipping his plain white t-shirt over his head. Santana reached under her bed and pulled out a bottle of champagne. They took turns swigging off the bottle while laughing at game shows. She looked over at him with a familiar comfortability. He kissed her cheek, and as he pulled away, she pressed in for one last lip lock before he left for the night.

"Night," He said, slipping out of the window.

"Goodnight," She sank down further under the covers and curled up to go to bed.

This had been going on for months, Puck would go to Santana's house, they'd sleep together, get drunk or high, and then he'd go home. This time was different though, he didn't feel right about it, as a matter of fact, he didn't feel anything at all. His breath came out in puffs of steam, and right now, his baggy, gray sweatshirt wasn't keeping him warm.

She tossed and turned in her sheets, unable to fall asleep. Something had broken her wall of confidence. Right now, her talent wasn't enough to assure her that she was amazing. She needed someone else to tell her. She's been making herself feel good for too long, and she could no longer go by her own judgment.

She pressed her face into her pillow and screamed.


	3. Confrontation

Noah Puckerman's Journal Entry, December 31st 2010

Santana's house last night that was some weird shit. We've fucked tons of times before, and I've never felt that way afterwards. Empty. I felt absolutely nothing! That's usually when I'm on top of my game! Something is getting to me. I think I might be sick. School is going to be lame! I hope Rachel doesn't bitch me out again, like she did yesterday. How can I get her to notice me? Jesus Christ! She's so hard to please. Usually playing a simple tune on my guitar is more than enough to sweep a girl off their feet. No, I've got it. That's it, I'm performing one of my songs today in Glee Club. When she sees how sensitive and intelligent I am, she'll be begging me to go out with her in no time.

Rachel Berry's Diary Entry, December 31st 2010

Diary, this is not a good thing. You see, I am beginning to doubt my performing arts abilities. Forever now, I've known that I was a prodigy, but at this point, I'm beginning to wonder why, if I am so talented, nobody has noticed me yet. Doubt is the first step on the path to failure. I need to make a recovery, if I am to save my future career. I need some sort of reassurance that I am perfect. This is all Noah Puckerman's fault! He had to embarrass me in Glee! He had to make me feel bad! He's so insensitive and stupid! He just runs around all day with his dumb slut, Santana. I'm better than him! How could I let his words crawl through my defenses so easily? I will no longer let these things concern me! Who am I kidding? I can only breathe when fueled by the praise of others. Finn and Mr. Schue, as well as my daddies have been enough to keep me satisfied, but Finn h ates me now, and even Mr. Schue is becoming annoyed with me. When will my troubles end?

Rachel carried her books through the halls with a confident smile on her face. She saw Karofsky approaching, slushy in hand and she froze up, clenched her fists, and closed her eyes. She was surprised that after about ten seconds, she hadn't been hit. She opened one eye to see Noah Puckerman with his hand over the lid of the icy beverage.

"What the hell's your problem, man?" Karofsky shouted.

"Just move on, man, she doesn't need this shit. It's immature anyway," He pushed Karofsky, taking away the cup, so that he could later dispose of it.

"Fuck you! Pussy! You gone gay for Glee?" The ogre resembling boy laughed.

"No, not at all," Puck smiled, "But I did hear that you went gay for Kurt Hummel!"

"Who the fuck told you that?" Dave growled.

"I heard it through the grapevine," Puck had heard it from Finn, who was confronted directly by Kurt about the event.

"You're dead!" The over sized beast shouted, plunging his fist into Noah's jaw.

Rachel screamed, as Puckerman hit the floor. She was pushed back as a circular crowd began to form around the event.

Puck pulled himself up off the floor, using the lockers for stability.

"Is that all you got?" He spat through a mouthful of blood. It wasn't more than a matter of seconds before Karofsky had Noah pinned to the floor with one arm, and was pounding away at his face with the other.

Rachel Berry cried out for teachers, or any other staff member, as the rest of the kids cheered on the fight.

Ms. Pillsbury pushed through the cluster of kids and into the center.

"Excuse me," She said, flinching away from the blood that was splattering from Noah's nose.

"Hey!" yelled from the other side of the circle. When no impact was made, he resorted to pulling the enraged jock from his prey.

"Figgins' office, right now," He screamed at David.

Puck lay, sprawled out on the tile floor, nose snapped and leaking, eye bloody and swollen, lips cut and soaked with crimson water. He was crying, but not audibly. Rachel fell to his side and held his hand. He turned his head towards her and smiled, before fainting. One of the counselors had called 9-1-1, and the ambulance could be heard, pulling into the parking lot. Noah was brought into the emergency room, and events at school carried on as usual, although the topic of conversation on everyone's lips was the hallway brawl.

The Glee Club met during their scheduled time slot. Mr. Schue coughed to get everybody's attention, but they continued chatting about how intense the fight was. Rachel, however, was sitting quietly in her seat, not wanting anyone to know that Noah Puckerman was hospitalized trying to protect her. She knew she would face a large amount of ridicule if she mentioned anything about the fight.

"You guys!" Mr. Schuester interrupted, silencing the room full of kids, "I know that you're all very concerned with the whole fight situation, but we have stuff to do today! Now, I figured that since it's a new year, the New Directions will get a new style," He chuckled at his choosy wording.

"What do you mean new style?" Santana asked, hoping that he might be talking about trying on a modern hip-hop style.

"Well, one of the biggest complaints I've been hearing from you guys is that you feel like you don't have enough input. So, I've devised a new plan, where instead of me giving you a theme each week, or a specific skill that needs working on, we'll just have genres. Each week you will vote on a new genre and you guys can pick absolutely whatever song from that genre you wish to sing. Sound good?" He explained.

Everyone excitedly agreed to it except for defiant Rachel Berry who stated her distaste for the system of picking with a loud, "No."

"What in that plan doesn't please you, princess?" Santana hissed.

"She's just being difficult, ignore her everyone," Quinn scoffed.

"The whole point of the assignments that Mr. Schuester has given us is to test our vocal abilities and stretch them beyond the constraining limits of our comfort zones. However, he is a pushover, and he wants everybody to like him, so he's put in place this ridiculous plan to keep morale high around here. It's stupid."

"Thank you Rachel, but I think it's proven that people perform better when their doing something they enjoy as opposed to something that they find boring or tedious," Mr. Shue wanted to slow Rachel down, before she got on a roll.

She groaned and shut her mouth, for once, she wasn't in the mood to argue.

After school that day, Rachel went to the hospital to visit Puckerman. There were no visitors in the room at that point. He turned his attention from the window to her, as she entered with a bouquet of flowers.

"Sight for sore eyes," He grinned, feeling pain from his lips as they curled into a smile.

Rachel let out an uncomfortable giggle and looked down at her feet, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was a joke," He laughed, "You know, sort of a pun. Because you're pretty, but my eyes are actually sore."

"You're cool," Rachel sarcastically teased.

She set his flowers down on the windowsill and sat at the foot of the hospital bed.

"That was really nice of you. Protecting me like that," She said, swinging her stubby legs over the edge of the bed.

"I would have kicked his ass, but if I get into another fight, I'm going back to juvy," He responded.

"Of course you would have," She chuckled.

"I don't like the way people treat you," He sighed, "It's too bad that's the way it is, you're a sweet girl."

"You're a pretty bad flirt," She joked.

"Who said I was flirting?"

"Let's just say that subtlety is not your strong suit."

Santana approached the doorway, "What the hell is Rachel Berry doing here?" She looked Rachel up and down viciously.

"I-I was just leaving," Rachel said, standing up. She left hurried and distraught, as if she'd been caught committing a crime. In the social environment of WMHS, for Rachel Berry to be visiting Noah Puckerman was a crime.


End file.
